


Thantophobia

by nostxlgiax



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Eventual Romance, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Manga & Anime, Realistic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostxlgiax/pseuds/nostxlgiax
Summary: Dark eyes has hair like a crow’s feathers, framing his face and strong jaw. Shoulders firm, with an agile grip on a staff. Feet planted meticulously, with moments to the rest of the room when he turns away, that reminds me of Navy Blue./[Copyright 2017, Ciani Jayde.] Kai Fujimoto is a new student at Ouran High School with an underwhelming fear of losing someone you love, but when she meets a stoic senior with the ability to come and go unbeknownst of her feelings . . . Well what's a girl to do?





	1. Genesis

_“The past is a good place to visit,_

_but certainly not a good place to stay."_

 

Dad never told us why she did it, why Mom left that is, and after some time I stopped questioning it. I like to think that she's happy wherever she is and one day she'll come back to be there for Katsumi, Kazumi, and myself like she was before; Dad will be happy, and I will too. Kazumi says he'll never forgive Mom for what she's done and sometimes I like to be on his side, always now that I think about it, but I don't know what Mom did to us . . . Or what we did to make her leave. Katsumi, he tells me not to worry, reminds me time and time again that it wasn't his, Kazumi, Dad's, or my own fault. “It was your Mother’s choice.” is how Dad put it and made the decision to respect it and move on shortly after . . . But, I just don't know what there was to move on from.

My Mom has always been a mystery to me and her disappearance is something that'll stick with me forever.

(Especially after the fact that I thought everything was fine.)

I like to think that I had a happy start to life, though most of it was a blur up until six years old. There wasn't too much to really complain about besides having two older brothers that were hard to tell apart until it was time for school. By then, they'd rush and bustle to wear clothes that were almost the same, but small little details that would help decipher.

(Katsumi, he's older, rougher around the edges, and preferred to leave his uniform shirt untucked with his tiaskew.)

He liked to scuff the ends of his pants, and crease the ends of his sneakers, even went as far as ruffling his hair til' the part ceased to exist.

(Kazumi, younger by a couple minutes, liked to look more approachable.)

He never liked the bubble Katsumi put around them, or at least that's how it seemed to be when I sat in the window watching the two run out the door with other neighborhood kids to catch the bus. He'd kept his clothes pressed, tucked, and clean cut. Hair damp and styled . . . I believe Katsumi always hated it. How Kazumi tried to be his own person.

(Despite the similarity.)

It still confused me though, seeing all those kids with lunch boxes and colorful book bags, while I'd be told to gather my books, because "Mommy's got her degree in teaching and it's time to put it to good use." Dad would just rub my back with a tie loosely strung around his neck, hair a mess saying, "It's alright bud . . . When Mom's done with you, you'll be as smart as the other kids . . . Maybe even smarter!" and it helped for a little while.

(But only as much as the television set and jigsaw puzzles)

I guess I could say I knew things were changing when Mom finally let me go to school like everyone else. It was a week after Katsumi, Kazumi, and I met Mr. and Mrs. Fujioka, or Kotoko and Ryoji--

(I wasn't allowed to call them that.)

\--Our neighbors in our apartment building near the heart of our downtown. They lived a floor below us, two doors to the right, and it amiss to me how I’d never seen them before.

After a while, things became more apparent. Faces seen and what came with their sight.

(Mrs. Fujioka, whose face I’d have used to and Mr. Fujioka, whose face I’d only encounter on those Sunday dinners when Dad's actually home to spend some time.)

Him and his wife were really close, but Mrs. Fujioka and Mom were even closer . . . So close that whenever Dad saw them together he'd make the same face that Kazumi makes when Katsumi blames him for taking the last Pocky Sticks Mr. Fujioka brings from his job.

(Kazumi hates when Katsumi takes his things.)

The only good thing that came from Mom's friends was their daughter Haruhi, who I can say is one of the better human beings to exist. She and I met when I was 7 in the back seat of Dad's van on the way to school. Her eyes were wide deep brown bowls of curiosity while her lips curled into a dip that I couldn’t decipher from a frown or snarl. Mom told me that it's a privilege to have met her when I did because, "All little girls aren't as blessed to start school with a friend."

Katsumi huffed and said. "Be glad you're going to school kid. You'll enjoy time apart from Mom more than you think."

(Mom cuts off the radio completely, silence emitting, and slaps him--

Kazumi sinks a bit in his seat, head hung low, puffs of air staining a cloud on the window.

Haruhi look at me, thin strands of brunette hair shielding her face from Mom’s view.

I didn’t know what to do, or what not to do.

\--Mom doesn't apologize.)

When I was 8, Mom was gone and so was Mrs. Fujioka, but Haruhi and her Dad never left. It was on my birthday, when she made her departure, and Katsumi said it would be "the best and worst day of my life". At the time, I had a hard time believing him--

(It’s my birthday, I remember telling myself over and over,

what could go wrong?)

( . . . Everything.)

\--I still think it was my fault, that she left that is, Mrs. Fujioka too . . . because when I blew out my candles with Haruhi's hand in mine, Kazumi's on my shoulder, and Katsumi gripping a flash photography camera . . . I wished for Mrs. Fujioka to never come back and she didn't . . . Mom either.

After that, I decided that if I spoke another word I'd lose someone else. Like Mr. Fujioka who stopped looking like Haruhi's Dad, but her Mom with a red wig and thick makeup; Katsumi, who’d become worse than before, sheltering in and pushing away anyone besides Kazumi, Haruhi, and myself; Kazumi, who tried to open up as much as he could, but has no success since Katsumi bit off any head who offered a smile; or Haruhi, who seemed to stick to my side like glue, even when she cried over those flowers at the front of a crumbled building where Mrs. Fujioka worked.

(She was a lawyer.--

Mom was her assistant.

\--Dad didn't like that.)

Within that year, a lot of things happened . . . Like learning about Haruhi's big mouth, which she now calls, "being honest". It was sometime during the end of our term, close to Summer, to invested in Spring, and she and I were having a tea party, Mr. Fujioka’s request. It was going well for the most part.

(He doll’d us up in the frilliest things he could find in his work bin,

Curled our hair in ways I’d never thought imaginable,

Powdered our face,

And scurried off into the kitchen to make snacks.)

I'd written a note with my favorite crayon about how gross her Dad's tea was, shortly after his return, and she told him.

"Kai-chan says your tea taste like dirt Dad." she says.

I get grounded.

Weeks after my first in home prison, Haruhi and I went to the park with Katsumi and Kazumi. Dad was there too, but had more interest in his phone and numbers, rather than what trouble we could all get into. It was one of his days off that appeared once every head cold and I finally got to go on the big swings, much to Katsumi's dismay. "Imouto-Chan, don't go over there." he'd told me, but Kazumi came to my battle; "Ani-Kun, she's alright, we're right here. 'Sides it's good for her to make friends."

(There's this look like Katsumi gives him, one that made me think of Dad when Mom said "I'll be home soon." but never returned--

The same look Mr. Fujioka gave Dad when he said, "It's all your fault." and never stopped the tears--

The same look Haruhi gave me when she said, "She said she'd never leave."--

Kazumi shrinks.)

"Kai-Chan, look." Haruhi had said, her finger pointed, and lips curled. "Arai-Kun."

"Arai-Kun?" Katsumi looked down at us with an interestingly hard stare. Green eyes glistening, fists balling a tad too tight. "That kid who's uncle has the produce store in Kruizawa."

"Sumi-San, how do you know that?" Kazumi had asked. I turned to find his arms crossed and brow raised. "I thought you didn't pay mind to outsiders."

"I don't, Zumi-San." he spat mockingly. " . . . I do pay mind to little bakas that keep making goo-goo eyes at my little sister."

"He makes goo-goo eyes at Haru-Chan." Kazumi said curtly and Katsumi turned his head.

"Exactly." he affirms stiffly.

" . . . You see me as a sister Sumi-kun?" Haruhi asked. Her eyes had a shine to them that I'd never seen since I first called her Imouto. " . . . Really?"

"Of course I do, we both do, right Kazumi?" he'd gutted and Kazumi nods quickly.

"Right." he told.

Haruhi smiled.  

"Wow." she said. "Arigato, Onii-San."

"Does that mean we can go to the swings now?" I asked tilting my attention back to the swings where  Arai waved from his spot, two girls at his flanks. I'd never seen them before. I suppose they were friendly. "You can come with us . . . to be safe?"

"What about Otu-Saan, Kai?" Kazumi asked kneeling to meet my eyes, razor edged brown hair looking as neat as it could.

"What about him?" Katsumi grit. "Just look, he's still on the phone."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't worry Katsumi." Kazumi retorted gesturing a hand. Dad doesn't look our way, just punches a few numbers into the calculator with a nod.

(Maybe it was for us to know he’d heard--

maybe it was for whoever was on the phone.)

(I’d never known.)

"Yeah, course." Katsumi laughed. "Sure."

However, we don't go to the swings that day, because it started to rain.

Lighting flashed in the sky, Haruhi yelped, and when thunder struck she whimpered.

Katsumi tells her to stop being such a baby while carrying her to the car and Kazumi swats his hand away gripping Haruhi in his murmuring how it's okay, a completely rational fear.

(“I've got you." he tells her, more than twice.)

(I didn't know what to do in that moment besides hold her hand--

so I did.)

Time goes by a lot faster after that day and I didn't know how to slow it down, or where. It's like I blinked twice and was sitting in a junior classroom for elementary. I coughed and had this clique of friends. I sneezed and found myself clinging to Arai while he babbled on and on about his insatiable infatuation with Haruhi's intelligence and wit. I trip over my shoelace and it's time to apply for high school. Katsumi and Kazumi's already made it into Ouran on basketball scholarships--

(I don't remember them ever becoming social enough for that.)

\--and Haruhi decided to do the same, so she could be a lawyer just like her Mom.

Me, I didn't know what I wanted to do, but whatever it was . . . I didn't want to do so alone.

Katsumi and Kazumi were well into preparation for their second year when Haruhi and I began filling out our application. We'd studied day in and day out to have everything set for entrance exam and I still tried to piece what place I would fit if I'd even got in. Katsumi and Kazumi, they trained possibly everyday in the local park with some of the other boy's, saying "We got a little rusty in July." and it was true.

Haruhi gets gum in her hair on the way home from the library one day, a week from the test, and we decide to cut it. "I like it this way . . . Less of a hassle."

"You look like a boy Haruhi." Katsumi said with a snarl, and Kazumi knocks his shoulder.

"I think," he gulps at his water. "that she looks cute either way."

"Well don't you go cutting your hair Kai." snatching the sheers from my hand, but swiping my handful of Haruhi's locks near my own in the process.

"Guess we'll have to now Baka." Kazumi reasoned pointing to the thick wad of gym holding itself to my ponytail.

"Look at what you did." I tsk'd not as upset looking up to the ceiling.

"Guess you'll have to cut her hair too, huh?" Haruhi dotted with a smile, and I grin.

"Guess so."

Katsumi grumbled a great deal of things under his breath and chops my hair right beneath the barrette. The holder snaps, my hair falls, pools at my feet, and it's remainder--a bit longer than Haruhi's . . . but not long enough because,

"You both look like boys." Katsumi sneered. "You dress like boys too."

"What's wrong with that?" Kazumi hummed. "At least we don't have to worry about creepy kids hitting on them."

"Creepy kids?" I ruffled my hair, or what's left of it.

"You heard right Imouto-Chan," Katsumi grins. "Nothing but little creeps waiting to get a quick ba-"

"Onii-San!"

Haruhi looked towards me, and I hold up my hands.

"You think they'll be like this in school?" she asked, and I shrug.

"Who knows?" I pitched. "They could surprise us."

. . . Nearing the test, there were a lot of things that I looked back on and wouldn't mind changing, but I knew that I couldn't . . . I accepted it . . . And I drew. I drew whatever I could when I could, because it made life a tad easier that way.

I've come to terms with the fact that I can be a simple person, but complicated if given the chance to be. I'm quiet . . . Always have been . . . But outspoken when needed. I've noted that I'm one within myself, but very much of the world and people around. I enjoy being alone, felt energized by it . . . But would never pass up a moment to spend time with Haruhi or my brothers. I drink a lot of coffee, as much as  can, but sometimes I just don't have the energy to move.

There was a lot of things about me that's changed over the years and It's getting clearer and clearer on why.

Haruhi says I'm turning into a walking oxymoron, but I won't give her the satisfaction of being right.

Sometimes, I like to think that there was a silent truth that surfaced within my mind and even if it was something I'd never paid attention to . . . It was still very much there. Haruhi likes to think I have a cold heart, but that isn't the case.--

(It's not like I'm incapable of feelings, need they be romantic or otherwise,)

\--I just didn't see attachment as a priority . . . At least not when I have no idea what I'm doing entering a High School full of, "stupid rich bastards" as Haruhi likes to say.

It's just a tad difficult is all.

Becoming attached.

. . . Maybe Katsumi is rubbing off on me.

I’d say the first person given the time of day was this girl from out of town. Haruhi and I were in the library, like always. Haruhi was looking for some book on Law and how the government can influence mindset’s of the average person . . . Or maybe it was the psychological book on social classes that she wanted to prepare for our upcoming journey with those who’re much better off than us. I however, was on the look out for this new graphic novel that I just had to read, or see at best. I heard the their illustrator used water color instead of ink, and it turned out extremely well.

(But I had to see for myself.)

Her name was Lily.  A halfer with deep brown eyes, russet hair, and I may or may not have drawn her that night. She told me that it was okay for me to take the book and she could wait til' I finished it before taking it out herself. If I hadn't figured out she wasn't from around here before, then there I had it.

She held a nice conversation and was a good muse. I liked that . . . Didn't think I would . . . But I did.

Haruhi said, "It's so great that you're finally letting go."

I asked, "From what?"

(She ignored me with ease.)

We had a lot in common. Lily and I. Almost too much, and I was bored.

After Lily was Akio. I don't remember why I gave him a shot, but I'd turned 15, Katsumi made sure to chase away any guy that came within 10 ft., Kazumi was a bit lenient, but protective all the same--

(And I wanted a bit of rebellion.)

\--We never did anything though. Lily and I. Akio and I.

They were both conversation and nothing more.

It's all I'd ever known.

(Talking. Bantering. Sharing. Leaving.)

By the end of the week, and my two sparks of what high school could really entail, it was time for my first day at Ouran. I was buzzing. Dad couldn't show up last night, said work held him over--no surprise there--so it was up to the guys to get Haruhi and I ready. Kazumi said if we'd gotten ready quick enough, he and Katsumi would take us to the bakery on the way . . . and well, we weren't going to pass that up.

"Are you sure we don't have to wear the uniform?" Haruhi asked slipping on this huge sweater that I remember Ranka--

(Haruhi's Dad. Mr. Fujioka. I'm allowed to call him such a name now.)

\--draped long a huge chair swearing it was meant to be "disposed of later on tonight."

" . . . Because it's expensive, the school's expensive,” she continues with a weak: “ . . . And I don't want to loose my scholarship." to finish.

"Don't be so worrisome." Katsumi says patting her back while tying up his lace. His eyes survey her ratty pants, the dark brown rag of a sweater, and the white tail that sneaks beneath it’s hem. He hums. Approval maybe. "After a while you get a free uniform like we did."

"I doubt it's the same, Sumi-kun." Kazumi says. His shirt his tucked and as creased and I remember from all that time ago.  "We're on a sports scholarship, not academic."

"Well what about Kai-chan?" Katsumi asks squinting his eyes. There’s wrinkled in his shirt, snags at the elbows, but remains comfortable all the same. "Arts for you right?"

I nod my head adjusting my jeans at the waist. They fit, barely, and my shirt was just as loose as Haruhi's. White fabric pooling over my stomach, curtaining my bust.

"Arts." I confirm. "Visual . . . Not performing."

"Figured as much." Katsumi sneers happily. His hand collides roughly with my shoulder and I almost lose balance. "You're a bit challenged in that department."

"Kastumi-Senpai!" Haruhi shouts. There’s glasses on her face, thick round frames. "It's our first day, be nice."

"Cut the formalities, Haruhi." Katsumi snorts. He knocks her shoulder, with much less force than he even attempted with mine. "And I am being nice."

"Well be nicer." Kazumi deadpans. "You don't want to make Kai-Chan even more anxious, do you?"

"Fine." Katsumi huffed ruffling my hair. Good thing I hadn’t gave it a particular style. "Lucky you two make cute looking guys."

Haruhi huffs at that and begins to gathers all of her things and I follow suite. The ratio to art supply and school ratio pushed into my bag fits the latter, while Haruhi’s collection of necessities make my head spin slightly.

"Thank you." Haruhi recovers a few steps into our march towards the bakery. "I think?"

"You're welcome." Katsumi grins looking back at the two of us, and then turns his head back to Kazumi before knocking him into one of the upcoming bushes.

I watch Kazumi recoil to his feet, a leaf stuck to his cuff, and he growls a laugh.

“One of these days Kastumi.” he promises empty-ly and I smile slightly at the only constant in my life.

It takes twenty minutes, roughly, for us to make it to the bakery and I count my blessings that the bus stop is right out front. Katsumi walks in first, like he always does, with Kazumi trailing right behind like a dependent puppy. After him is Haruhi who has her head up as high as I wish I could duplicate, but my skin itches as soon as the bell dings above our head with my eyes darting to the clock.

"Well if it isn't the Fujimoto/Oka clan." I adjust the bag on my shoulder and clutch the disastrously worn book closer. "The usual for you bunch?"

"You know it." Katsumi says, and he sounds as nice as he always does when it comes to Akiko Hamasaki. "Strawberry muffin for me."

"Raspberry for me," Kazumi request, because the two berries are nothing alike and  adds a quick, "please."

"I’ll go with Chocolate chip  this time," Haruhi's always been a bit indecisive, and so so partial to sweets. " . . . Chocolate chunk . . . ?"

"Blueberry." I finalize tapping the glass.

"Alright then." Akiko turns towards the table top to grab bags and paper sheets. Her hair is split down the middle in those familiarizing braids with bands covering the very top of her wide frames. "Today's the first day back, yeah?"

"Yeah." Katsumi and Kazumi say in the same beat. "Feels good to be back."

"You're not back yet." Haruhi murmurs beneath her breath and I grin. Charming.

"You haven't even started." Katsumi taunts and I shake my head.

"Right!" Akiko's smile is bright. Blinding if anything. "Today is your first day at Ouran . . . Oh! Kai-Chan don't look so upset."

"I'm not upset." I say clicking the heels of my dog eared sneakers. "I just don't want to be made fun of for being on a scholarship . . . " I take my muffin and hum. " . . . For art! Of all things."

"Hey!" Haruhi huffed into a chocolate chunk. It’s dark chocolate I see, Akiko must pay a significant amount of attention.  "At least it's something special."

"Basketball is something special." Katsumi interjects.

“You’re only saying that, because you’ve got a scholarship on it.” I say confidently around a blueberry. “ . . . I still don’t get how.”

“Me either.” Haruhi hums and I nod my head.

“I don’t remember you guys ever playing basketball til’ this summer.”

“You think they lied to get in?” Haruhi asks and I shrug my shoulders.

“Don’t know,” I look to Kazumi. “did you guys lie to get in?”

"I think Karate or Kendo is special." Kazumi says, ignoring me completely.

"Karate!" Akiko says happily. Thanks.  "Definitely."

"You're only saying that 'cause you have a thing for that Haninozuka kid." Katsumi says unimpressed and Akiko gasped aggressively shoving a deformed muffin his way. Katsumi always gets his order last, yet he always orders first. Though they’ve never looked this sad.

"He's your senpai, not a kid!" she defends, fumbling with her apron. Her cheeks gain a new life as I watch them flame red. It’s amusing.  "And I do not have a thing for him . . . He's cute- that's it."

"Yeah, right." Katsumi looks bored, I am too, and Kazumi bites into his muffin satisfied.

"I think you're upset 'cause you like Aki-chan." Kazumi says lazily and I choke on air.

That'd explain a lot.

That’d explain a whole lot.

"I do not!" I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment of annoyance in it’s voice. Maybe an odd conjunction of both.

"Why are you yelling?" I pay no mind to who asked that since my muffin is nearly done, and the wild look in Katsumi’s eyes is distracting.

"I am not!" he wails, A contradiction in itself.

"You still are." Akiko says this, a dash of amusement on her tongue.

"You still like that Mistukuni guy." I won’t call that tone jealously, because I know jealously sounds like coming from my brother’s lips. It’s something close to it, and not far from regret, confusion, and concern.

(There’s  tinge of shock too--

Not that Katsumi would ever live to admit it.)

"It's Hani." she corrects snottily.

"It's time for school." Kazumi quips and I groan covering my face.

My muffin is finished, a wrapper balled in my first, and Haruhi drops hers.

"What?!" it falls sadly at her feet, and the glasses slide from the bridge of her nose. "We can't be late on the first day!"

“Arigato Imouto-chan.” I get out timidly kicking aside a receipt by my heel. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

“We’re late?” I turn to see Akiko furiously untying her apron, slipping it’s collar over her head, before scrambling into a swinging door with an ‘employee’s only’ plaque in it’s middle. “No, no, no, I can’t be late on this first day back!”

“Why are you working on a school morning anyway?” Kazumi asks when she burst out with her uniform shirt rumbled a few buttons undone. There’s isn’t much to see that I haven’t seen before on myself, so I’m unphased. Katsumi’s eyes linger for a beat longer than necessary, and Kazumi appears genuinely unbothered . . . Just curious on, “Why would you work when we have school?”

“I kind of have to,” she begins pushing through the door once again, an interesting amount of sounds coming from where she went, before appearing again flustered. “I’m on an academic scholarship.”

“Like me.” Haruhi says it sounding almost excited. “I’m on an academic scholarship.”

“Like you.” Akiko smiles, it’s drenched in sincerity. Katsumi grunts. “ . . . Anyways, I don’t start school as early as you guys because I took a bunch of extra courses for my first couple of years.”

“So why are you rushing now?” Haruhi asks passively. “If you don’t start so early?”

“I’ve met some friends through a club that start early . . . Sometimes we get to see club members just as early because they like to have meetings in the morning.” she explains disappearing once again.

“That’s a confusing way of putting things.” Haruhi says thoughtfully and I watch the door swing on it’s henge confused.

“It’s nothing.” Katsumi tells roughly. “It probably has something to do with that kid she has heart eyes for.”

“Mistukuni?” I preen and he rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, let’s just--”

“Get outside.” Kazumi finished leaving no room for argument while he pushes us out the door.

The wind quickly swipes across our faces and I was happy that for once I didn’t follow behind Haruhi’s graces. She, who decided to wear what looked like wool, was leaning against a lamp post with small beads of sweat sitting on her temple, and I’m sure she’ll regret this all later when she’s in her classroom. Katsumi and Kazumi however, almost make me squirm with cool, calm, and collected them seem to be while we wait for Akiko to finish up her costume change.

Katsumi is tapping his foot, Kazumi kicks a pebble, and I try to convince myself that school won’t be so bad. It can’t be anything I’m not used to . . . Or maybe it’d be the exact opposite. Maybe I won’t have a single class with Haruhi, let alone lunch. Maybe I won’t see Katsumi or Kazumi til we’re home. Maybe I’ll be all alone.

I don’t like being alone.

I don’t like being left.

“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble for being late?” Haruhi asks again biting the inside of her cheek. “I mean, Kai and I are first years . . . Wouldn’t it be crucial for us to be one time?”

“Most first years were already in the Ouran system,” I note. I remember our instructor from the test telling us how important it is for us to remember that. To prove how slim our chances are. “wouldn’t be hard for us to get away with it?”

  

“Not the first time.” Katsumi reassures, but it seems empty. “Maybe tomorrow it won’t be so easy.”

“Ignore him.” Kazumi rescues pushing Katsumi and sliding before he could return the favor.

“You guys may not make the best first impression of Chairman Suho-Sama, but as long as your art doesn’t go horrible and your grades--”

“Never fall.” Akiko grins stepping out in an interesting esemble. “You should be fine.”

"What are you wearing?" I ask, unable to stop myself from openly staring in disbelief, and twirling happily Akiko winks.

"This is Ouran's uniform for ladies." there's an emphasis on the word ladies, pointed eyes glowing daggers towards Haruhi and myself and I shrivel into myself. "It's quite a sight isn't it?"

“Yeah." Katsumi snorts unattractively, but I couldn't agree any less. "It is quite a sight alright."

"Oh, quiet baka." Akiko all but wails when the bus turns the corner and  felt like I had a foot in my mouth when I didn’t correct her for calling him an idiot. I don’t feel like she’s entitled to, she who is a temporary fix. "You're just jealous that you're uniform is so hideous."

I look at the two who seem neck and neck--

(Face to chest.)

\--and click my tongue.

"Is that right?" his brows raised and I roll my eyes hugging my book close to my chest. There’s a look Kazumi shoots my way, but I do a quick ‘lock and key’ to my lips and shake my head. One thing I’ve learned about Akiko is that no matter how bubbly and cheerful she seems to be, there is no soft spot for Katsumi Fujimoto.

“Yeah it’s right.” she says finally and it looked like they were waiting for the other to blink first.

“I think the boy's uniform looks fine." I offer nodding along with Haruhi who grins sheepishly.

(Because I never liked when anyone tried to have one up on any of us.)

(That, and Akiko looked like a cream puff.)

(A cake topper.)

Gross.

“It does look more comfortable." Haruhi says offhandedly, dismissively flicking her wrist, and she looks almost proud. " . . . But the girl's uniform isn't so bad either Akiko . . . “ she adds deflating at the looks Akiko sends her way, and I rolled my eyes at how quickly Haruhi tried to accommodate her feelings, “ . .  . I mean, not that gender's matter or anything."

Nice save.

"No. Not again Haruhi." Katsumi cuts waving a hand around. Nevermind. “It’s too too early for you to start preaching Ranka's word on society's gender binary."

“It’s too early for you to start an argument.” Kazumi grumbles.

“We are society aren't we Sumi-kun?" Akiko asks batting her lashes curtly and I snort at the blush that creeps up my brother's neck for a reason I can not explain.

“Well do you believe there's more to gender than girl and boy?" he asks with shoulders tense, and Akiko laughs.

“Of course I do, you don’t?” she sounds breathless. “Have you seen your sisters?"

"Hey!" Haruhi and I shout a bit louder than intended, because--

(There is nothing wrong with how we look, dress, or carry ourselves.)

(And why are we being brought into this, we have no place.)

"Not that there's anything wrong with you guy's style, it’s awesome, really fitting of you two . . . " Akiko recovers with hands up defensively and sheepishly smile. " . . . It's just--Okay,” she takes a deep breath and points to Haruhi, “Haru-Chan, how many times are you asked your gender?"

"Well . . . " she look thoughtful, finger to her chin, head up, and hums. She’s actually thinking about this.  " . . . I guess it'd depend on what I'm wearing that day?"

"Okay." Akiko turns to me, a finger so close to my nose I could smell that powdered sugar. "Kai?"

“I have boobs.” I deadpan pulling my shirt so it seems like it fits. The swell of my chest ridiculously prominent and Katsumi stamps his foot. There were reasons why I never liked being yanked into discussions of disagreement.

"Baka!" his hands reach behind my and yank my own to my side. "You better not do that in Ouran."

“"I agree with Sumi-Kun on this one Kai-Chan." Kazumi says, voice dripping in my ear like betraying honey. "We don't need--"

“--Creepy kids,” I interject my teeth and folding my arms. "I know Ooni-Sans."

"Don't give me that look." Katsumi chastised. "You're 15 with bigger than--"

“Don’t you dare.” Akiko glowers smacking his pointed finger away, and look at her . . . Hmph. "You're insufferable. No wonder it's so easy to tell you two apart!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Katsumi challenged, eyes buzzing with offense.

“ . . . Ha-”

“I know . . . “ Haruhi says not letting me finish and I shuffling a bti closer to her side.

"You're a . A jerk. A troublemaker." Akiko seethes and it’s hard to be understand how a simple comparison of size, reduced to her calling them out like this. "Kazumi he's a sweetheart. A peacemaker. He actually tries to be nice to people, to let them close, and--"

“You’re characterization of the two of them is completely off.” I say more to myself than anyone else, and Katsumi  looks close to livid. The kind of emotion that strikes his face and goes through the rest of him in a way that makes Kazumi keep a cautious distance.

"I know that it's no use!" Katsumi bellows. "And I know that it is no use."

"Katsumi." I can't tell if it's myself, Haruhi, or Kazumi that says so, but he shakes of my hand when the bus screeches in front of us. I know that tone of voice, I know that sag of his shoulders . . . I know it.

(We all do.)

"No." his shoulder are hunched, hair a bit frizzed, and shirt wrinkled near his wrists. "I don't need people like little miss. perfect family, trying to tell me or any of us about letting people close."

"Sumi-Kun . . . " Akiko's voice softens reasonably while she gives with driver her fair with eyes on Katsumi's retreating figure. " . . . I don't have the perfect family . . . No one does."

"Do you have your Mom, Aki-Chan?" he hits leaning his chin against his palm, and Kazumi plops beside him with an arm slithering around his shoulder.

"Well, yeah, but--"

(But we don’t have a Mom.)

(Not anymore.)

(She left.)

"Do you see your Dad?" he inquires leaning his head against Kazumi lazily who pets it’s hair instantly.

" . . . Haruhi . . . " I murmur nudging her with my knee, and she looks up at me with foggy glasses.

"I know." is all she says, and I try to mold into my seat seeing the small twinkle of a tear in Katsumi's eye.

"Do you Aki-Chan?" he pesters not lifting his gaze from his lap and I cut my eye to see Akiko shift uncomfortably in her seat. It’s like air leaves my lungs when she heaves out a cough. “Do you see your Dad?”

"Yes." she almost looked ashamed to answer. " . . . Yes I do . . . Uh . . . See my Dad."

(We don’t see our Dad.)

(Not anymore.)

(Not since she left.)

Katsumi just hums in response, like he's satisfied at Akiko's defeat. It’s sinister. I wish I could do the same. To find comfort in making someone else feel awful for making me feel angry. I wish I was angry. I wish I knew what it was that I feel at this very moment.

"You didn't have to say those things Katsumi." Kazumi says softly petting at his head with a gentle hand. "Akiko didn't--"

"She wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it Kazumi." Katsumi literally growled clenching his fist and I felt Haruhi turn to look my way with a hand on my knee. It bounced, quickly, rapidly, and I watched with my ears perked. "Mom always said--"

“--If you don't mean it--"

“--Don’t say it.” I finish.

Katsumi looks over at me with a hard stare that ease the moment his eyes truly met mine--

(Which burned,

quite a bit when I saw the red rim outlining his.)

"Kai-Chan." he whispers . . . Or was it Haruhi? Kazumi? "Kai-Chan don't cry."

But I wasn’t crying, I knew I wasn’t . . . I was just bouncing my knee . . . And it only looked so blurry from bouncing so fast. It was only bouncing so fast, because I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe because I couldn’t feel Haruhi’s hand . . . Or Katsumi eyes . . . I couldn’t hear whoever was speaking, just Mom.

"Don't say what you don't mean." I repeat hearing Mom's voice in my head. Words like a smooth line on paper caressing my silhouette in unforeseen misfortune. "Mom always said. Mom always said. She always said."

" . . . Katsumi!" it's a distance hiss.

"I didn't mean to!" even farther away.

"I have water." Akiko says this.

"Hand it over." Haruhi.

It’s fuzzy.

(Everything.)

"Kai-chan." who's saying it? "Breath for me Imouto-Chan."

"Don't." I whisper. Do I really sound like that? "Don't say . . . Don't mean . . . Mom always said . . . "

"Kai," my name sounds broken in whatever way one syllable could. "C'mon Imouto-chan, breathe."

"Onee-San." Imouto-chan. "Please be okay."

A hand is rubbing circles on my back, they're small, but comforting all the same.

  

Water is brought to my lips, and minuscule sips are taken.

The bus jerks to a stop and I can see again.

It's all blurry.

(One outline next to another.)

(One pair of eyes as wet as the other.)

"Imouto-Chan!" Katsumi cries leaping from his seat and dragging me with him. Arms tight around my waist, face dug deep into my neck. Drops prickling skin. Breaths tickling my flesh. It’s like everything is spinning. "Baka! Never scare me like that again, you hear me?"

"Yes Sumi-Kun." I say a laugh slipping past my lips. Spinning. "Never again."

"Do you mean it?" Akiko breaths with a trembling smile, and I smile a bit wider.

(Faster.)

"I mean it Aki-Chan." she looks a bit grateful and Haruhi does the laugh she always does when she's on the line of passing out. "I mean it."

(Mom always said.)

. . . Once I gather my bearing and get off Katsumi's lap he returns to his place by the window across the aisle, though his eyes never leave mine. His stare is hard, but filled with concern more than anything, Kazumi's mirroring while he coaxes me to "drink the water or else."

"Or else what Zumi-kun?" I tease leaning against Haruhi's side sipping the water leisurely. "Gonna tickle me to death?"

"No." his grin is scary. "I'll take your water colors."

"And oil paints." Katsumi adds.

"Charcoal and graphite too." my demonic brothers say it tune leaning forward and I swallow the last of the water with two coughs and a smile.

"There." I wave the bottle. "It's gone. You can stop threatening my supplies now."

They looked satisfied.

"We should do that more often, nee?" Katsumi grins and Kazumi laughs.

"Yeah," he says happily. "We should."

You shouldn’t, I want to say, it’s thick on my tongue, but Akiko beats me to it.

“ . . . I guess I should too." Akiko quips from her seat, rummaging in her bag pulling out two cookies. "Here eat these. I know that anxiety attacks can burn a bit of sugar since your blood rushes quite a bit . . . At least I think it was an anxiety attack . . . But here,” she pushes the cookies toward me even further and who am I to neglect free sweets. “so you don't pass out from loss of insulin, okay?"

“Sure.” it’s a half-assed reply on my part, but I’d already bitten into a Hamasaki Sabaku speciality. “ . . . And insulin?” I ask, because I just have to know--offering Haruhi a piece because dark chocolate is her only exception it seems--”What’s that?”

“Sugar.” she says with this newfound shine in her eye. “In your bloodstream."

"How do you know about that?" I interrogate crossing my legs. My shirt bunches slightly, yet bubbles enough that my chest is nicely camouflaged.

"I want to be a nurse." Akiko beams. "It's why I work so hard at Ouran, to be in Ouran, and stay at Ouran. Having their credentials under my belt will do wonders in the medical field, especially if you know the right people like second year Ootori, Kyoya."

"That creepy kid with the glasses?" Katsumi laughs. "Always carrying around the black book?"

"And the calculator?" Kazumi adds quizzically, to which Katsumi nods animatedly.

“And that Suoh, Tamaki.” he says through chortles. “Baka he is.”

“Ootori, Kyoya?” I peg.

“Suoh, Tamaki?” Haruhi parrots.

The two of us share a look of complete confusion and Akiko sighs.

"Your senpai's a year up. Ootori-San is the third son of Ootori, Yoshio." Akiko tells. "Tamaki-san is the son of our Chairman, Suoh-Sama."

"He's a loon." Katsumi drawls. "That Tamaki kid."

"We're the same age." Kazumi says. "You can't call him, "kid"."

"I can call him what I want." Katsumi argues.

"Yeah?" Kazumi grins. "He can call his Dad."

“Yeah,” I say confidently finishing off the first cookie. “Sumi-Kin, shouldn’t you be nicer to someone who’s father can have your scholarship yanked beneath you?”

“That’s a bit morbid, nee Kai-Chan?” Katsumi says, smile faltering. “We were just making fun.”

“You guys always make fun.” Haruhi points out, and I nod.

“Then get upset when people make fun of you two.” I add.

“Which is really hypocritical on your part.” Haruhi preens. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know about you Sumi-Kun,” Kazumi starts half-playful. “but I feel attacked.”

" . . . Anyways." Akiko says annoyance ringing in my ears from her bite. “As entertaining as this sibling banter may be . . . I’d like to finish my thought, nee?”

“Oh yes,” Katsumi plays sarcastically. “because all we need is to hear you talk more than usual this morning.”

“Whatever.” Akiko rolls her eyes and turns her body til her back is all Katsumi can see. "Knowing those two could really up you in whatever you’re trying to do. Kyoya especially since his family has the big medical firms . . . at least for me . . . But there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” Haruhi asks leaning a bit closer, she’s almost interested, but I know her too well.--

(She’ll get all of this information, just to know who to steer clear of.

Because Haruhi likes to do things on her own.)

\--”Kyoya-Kun . . . or Senpai in your case is the youngest of three sons in the Ootori family, so there’s tons of pressure on him to . . . to be somebody in the eye of his parents.” Akiko clicks her tongue. “Well his dad, specifically.”

“Why is that?” Kazumi asked.

“Better question is why does she know that.” Katsumi voices, and well,

“I agree with Sumi-kin.” I comment waving my cookie in the air. “How do you know any of this?”

“Everyone knows that about Kyoya-kun.” Akiko responds simply. “A lot of his club members call him the “Shadow King”, I suppose his upbringing goes into that.”

  

“Okay,” I nod, not fully understanding. “If he’s the “Shadow King”,” I use air quotes saying this. “What makes you think he’d help you?”

“I never thought of it that way?” she deflates, visibly. “Kyoya-kun work best when he gets something in return.”

“Well,” Katsumi looks her up and down. “You don’t have much to give.”

“And I don’t think this Kyoya dude likes sweets.” Kazumi observes.

I my tongue before biting into my cookie.

(It taste fresh.)

“How can someone, not like sweets?” Haruhi clears at me and I roll my eyes. “No offense Imouto -chan . . . Thought you do like strawberries.”

“They’re healthy.” she says.

“Happiness is healthy.” I retort.

“Hello!” Haruhi and I look so see Akiko with jaw slack. “ . . . Can I continue, or will there be more interruptions?”

“How about you just wrap it up?” Katsumi pitches and Kazumi whines in agreement.

“Nee, Aki-Chan.” he mewls. “It’s kind of tring hear you drone on about your crushes on these guys.”

“I don’t have crushes on Kyoya and Tamaki!” she louder than she needs to be and I clear my throat leaning against Haruhi’s side. “Long story short, Kyoya makes sure to have has lots of connections so his Dad can take him seriously. Tamaki too . . . Since he’s the heir and all, he just doesn't know how to utilize them as well."

“I’m on an art’s scholarship.” I announce. “What good is that to a medical firm wanna-be runner up and a Chairman’s heir?”

“What kind of art?” Akiko asks and I lift my sketchpad.

“Visual.” I say and she tsk’d.

“Well, obviously.” her hand gestured to my hold of the tattered book. “I mean what kind of art exactly? Do you draw? Paint? Sculpt?”

“I guess that’s why I’m going to school for it . . . Do figure that all out.” I answer curtly. “I took the test and didn’t do so well, but the proctor saw my pad and sent it to Suoh-Sama.”

“Kai-Chan!” my siblings shout, and an elderly lady in front shushed them.

“You never told me that.” Haruhi whispers harshly with a glare and Katsumi and Kazumi mirrored the same look.

“Never told us either Imouto-Chan.”

I crumble a bit in my seat rolling my eyes.

“Never asked." I grumbled.

“Smart .” Katsumi says.

“Where do you think I get it from?” I retort.

Kazumi snorts.

“She’s got you there Sumi-Kun.” he says, and Haruhi raises her hand when Katsumi looks her way.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head. “I’m not in this one.”

“Maybe you could join the art club.” Akiko pitches when the bus slows and I roll my eyes.

“That’s part of my scholarship . . . Though it’s not everyday,” I say. “Suoh-Sama recommended I take up another club to fill up time and ensure that no one thinks I got into the school because I know how to hold a pencil.”

“But,” Haruhi starts. “That’s exactly how you got in . . . “

“Join my club!” Akiko enthused and Katsumi sits up a little closer.

“Isn’t that Suoh guy in your club?” he asks and Akiko narrows her eyes.

“It’s Tamaki,” she corrects. “and yes.”

“And no.” Kazumi says dismissively, and Katsumi nods his head harshly.

“What he said.” Katsumi butts. “No sister of mine is going to be around Tamaki Suoh or any of his little friends.”

“Takashi isn’t little.” Akiko says and Katsumi shakes his head.

“Just stay away from them.” he says. “Especially Tamaki.”

Kazumi nods in beat.

"Baka." he says.

I finish off the last cookie when we reach the school. Akiko steps off first because "she's a lady" and I melted chocolate from the thumb following suite. It’s almost unnerving, the school that is. It's color aside . . . It’s just big. I'm more than sure that I'd get lost at some point during the day, especially since Haruhi and I don't have the same homeroom. Akiko confirmed such things since my scholarship is solely for arts so most of courses will feature that. Bummer.

"It's good to be back huh Kazumi?" Katsumi utters slinging an arm around Kazumi who grins in reply.

(I bet he’d been waiting all week to do and say just that.)

"Sure is." Kazumi voiced.

(Bakas.)

(The both of them.)

"Wow." Haruhi's expression mirrored mine the moment I watched Akiko prance off towards a herd of girls squealing about Honey. "This school is huge."

"This isn't the school, Haru-chan." Kazumi says sweetly.

"This is the main building." Katsumi adds and I roll my eyes.

"Stupid rich people." Haruhi and I chime with one another, then smile.

“Look who’s been learning our tricks.” Katsumi and Kazumi harmonize with grins.

"We've got to head over to the court Imouto-Chans." Katsumi states after a few beats of Haruhi and I to stare, judge, and gawk.

"Captain says we've got a scrimmage as an open to the semester." Kazumi recites, and Katsumi grins.

"Good thing we've practicing all summer." he cheers, and Kazumi laughs.

"They're going down Sumi-kun." he declares starting off in a direction that I hadn't wanted to keep up with, and Katsumi kisses the top of Haruhi's head, then mine.

"Catch you later Kai-Chan, Haru-Chan." he murmurs as if it were a secret, before high-tailing after Kazumi with a bag weighing his left side heavier than the right. "Damn right they are!"

Haruhi looks to me and offers a looped an arm.

"Guess it's just us?" she comments, and I nod nervously.

"Guess so." I agree scratching nervously at my thigh.

Guess so.


	2. Foreign

_“There are far, far better things_  
_Ahead than any we leave behind"_

IT’S SOON, ENTIRELY SO, for me to make such a quick judgement on a man I've just met . . . Especially one who holds my life in his hands--

(Metaphorically.)

(Literally.)

\--while he flips through my sketchpad with blond hair askew and brows furrowed. There's an unkpet appearing mustache, grey, sitting atop his upperlip that he grooms after every turn of the page before looking my way. Violet eyes skeptic and the hair continuously stands on the back of my neck with every tsk that leaves his lips. The entire show of Chairman Suoh-Sama look at my work with an almost bored expression makes me want to vomit on the spot . . . Curl into myself with my book snatched away and tucked into my stomach before another hum sends me hurtling into some depression I'd never experienced before.

(My proctor said Suoh-Sama approved of my work,

that it earned me a place here,

what happened?)

"Fujimoto, Kai." he finally says after what seemed like an eternity that could drain me whole. "You art is different from what I've last seen."

"Is it?" my pad is closed, his fingers drum on it's beaten cover, and I wonder if having a tattered book goes against the prestige code here. "I thought I've drawn the same as always."

"And how is that?" he quizzes folded his hands beneath his chin.

"With my eyes closed it almost seems." I say before I could stop it, and the look on his face sends me reeling a bit. There's a deep crease in his forehead, intimidating all the way structed in a strong classy way.--

(He reads purple to me.)

(Powerful yet enchanting.)

( . . . As anyone should be to find themselves as Chairman of such an institution.)

\--"I mean . . . I like to draw when I feel most inspired and intune." I start in attempts to recover. "Whether it's by something I see, hear, taste, smell, touch . . . There's always something it takes from me that I willingly leave behind . . . And in return, I draw what was given to me. Blindly."

"What is given to you Fujimoto-Chan?" he asks, and it's almost like he's interested.

"Feeling." I say quickly. "A feeling of security. That what I draw can not be lost, unless I chose to let it go."

He nods at me then.

(It's thoughtful.)

(Or at least I hope.)

"That's quite a theory." he guts opening my pad once more. He flips, twice, three times, and hums.--

(This time, it doesn't scare me.)

\--"There aren't nearly as many artist as you with such a mentality for the beauty of art as a whole. When asked, they give simple answers, ones that are so vague and not nearly as thoughtfully ambigious as your's . . .

" . . . It's a trait that I felt was a wonderful asset to my school." he continues sliding the pad to my hands. "Though you are a commoner, you posses a passion for what you do that I haven't seen in even the finest of the industry . . . I like to think that it's the fact that you've come from so little, that you do your best to be greater--

(That isn't true at all.)

(But I nod.)

\--I can't say that I regret admitting you to Ouran on the art's scholarship, but to be fair, I've seemed have given quite a few commoners fair chances here." oh, I should've known this was coming. "Fujimoto, Katsumi and Fujimoto, Kazumi are your brothers, nee?"

"Nee." I comply almost afraid to tell the blatant truth.

"They are on a sports scholarship, as I assume you know . . . And it can easily be detained if they even do so little a foul against a rival school. Fujioka, Haruhi . . . I see you'll came in tow, and just as easily her position can be seen a simple mistake in the system." I don't like the look in his eye--

(Dark Purple.)

\--"Do you miss them? Our moms I mean,” Haruhi pulls me from my thoughts, frighteningly so, through bites of a dark chocolate chunk cookie Akiko sparred after she and I left our interviews with Chairman Suoh-Sama. “I do.”

“So do I,” I say, and for more reasons that the gluttonous grin given to by our school’s first in chaarge as he flipped aimlessly through my sketchpad. Loose lipped threats spilled the whole time. “Especially now y’know, everything is just so--”

“New?” Haruhi tries, a crmb loyally placed on her chin, but the word is too small.

“No.” I shake my head, that’s not the word. It coldn’t be. “Foreign.”

Yes.

“Yeah.” Haruhi agress through a mouthful of semi sweetened mush and rosy cheeks. ‘I really miss her . . . Her advice,” her voice dips; her glasses fog, but she adjusts her glasses and shrugs. “There’s just things she’s done that Dad never can.”

We’re at a window now, having passed a long line of lockers and blush tinted rays of sun. Yeah, I want to say, and I taste the word on my tongue as Haruhi clutches her supplies with an expression almost unreadable -- I blame the glare on her lenses. Her stature, slightly slumped, she looks smaller in her already too big for her outfit, and it’s comforting --

(At least some things don’t change.)

\-- “I wish she was here.” Haruhi wears a dimpled frown. “I wish they both were.” she continues, exhaling in an obnoxiously loud huff. “ . . . Do you think we’d even be here if they weren’t gone?”

“Be where?” I ask tentatively, because I feel like I’ve had enough emotional turmoul for one morning.. Honestly. “Standing dramatically in at a comically upper class picture perfect window?” I pitch this sarcastically, hoping for at least one of those hums of laughter Haruhi, sometimes, produces. “ . . . Or, here at Ouran?”

“At Ouran,” she all but bubbles out, and I’ll suffice with telling myself that it’s all cookie, and not choke dup tears. “What if our moms never left Kai? Would I really want to be like her if she was there all along? Would our Dads be so invested in work that our brothers decided slamming a ball on the pavement was the only way to be seen? Would you--”

“Speaking of those two,” I start shortly, becuse this inquistive tear down has to come to an end. “Have you seen them? Or at least one?”

“Not since this morning, no.” She answers glumly, finally turning away from the falling petals from one of the many campus cherry blossoms to face me. The action was both consoling and unsettling, but I’ll take what’s given.

(Even if it’s her eyes dancing across my face.)

“What about Akiko?” mentally, I cross my finggers that these questions would fire up a swift topic change. “Besides her giving us sweets, any classes together?”

‘Just lunch.” Haruhi answers animatedly, and suirms. “That and history, and it’s only because she didn’t do so well last year.”

“I thought she wasn’t allowed to not do so well, any year.” I wave my hand dismissively. “Academic scholar and all?”

“Maybe Ouran has some lenancy to those attatched to that Tamaki guy.” Haruhi tuts. “Akiko did say he’s the Chairman’s son . . . He must have a bunch of leeway around here.”

“I like to think he has it harder.” it’s pessismistic, sure, but “Imagine that expectation he has to meet with his Dad being the one who makes all the decisions around here? And he’s running a club? Who’s to say Chairman Suoh-Sama even approves?”

“Even if he doesn’t approve,” Haruhi starts. “It must be popualr.”

“Anything is popular if it weens off of attention,” I droon.

“Rich people.” Is what Haruhi says, and we just leave it at that.

. . . I lose Haruhi not long after. She began complaining about the library’s all being loud, full of people, and not what she needs to study. Apparently having AP everything as a first year isn’t ideal, but even I knew that. She’d ventured off into a music room, that I distinctly remember Akiko saying her club was in, and I was quickly left alone.

The halls seemed smaller with each step I took on my own. Longer with every breathe I exhaled.

(I wanted to hide.)

Hiyah!*

Hyuh!*

There’s a couple stomps that follow, even some clangs, and I’d never been more curios.

I clutch my sketchpad to my chest, tighter than I ever have before, when I look through the cracked door. Mats are lined on the floor, navy blue, with pale bare feet slapping against them. I can see staffs against the wall adjacent to where I stand, boys that look far older than me, huddled about in a circle. What they’re wearing doens’t look like traditional Karate attire, and I’m honestly not sure what I’d stumbled into.

There’s dark eyes that catch mine for a quick second. Stark deep pools of brown, leaning closer to ebony, and then they’re gone--

“Hi!” my sketchpad drops from the hands, and I scramble to catch my breath. “Are you going to come and watch?”

Guess so, I think, watching tiny hands grab my pad. It’s been sprawled open, charcoal smudged portraits of people who’ve come and gone, on full display.

(I feel small.)

It’s all so blurry. Whoever spoke, their voices now muffled, flipping through something so dear to me. One page after the next. One face after the next. Mom. Dad. Kazumi. Katsumi. Haruhi.

“You must be the new art scholar!” the voice exclaims, and it’s just as loud and thunderous as the gong across the room. “Fujimoto Kai, nee?”

“I’m Haninozuka Mistukuni!” he cheers continuing, not giving me a chance to confirm. “Why do you draw people?”

No one’s ever asked me that before.

(No one’s ever cared.)

“It’s uhm,” my fingers are itching to grab it back. Close it. Leave. “ . . . It’s harder to loose people when they’re on paper.”

“Hmm,” another page is turned. “Who’s this?”

I look up then. A blush thumb is jabbing at the Downtown Toyko reflection in Lily’s right eye.

“That’s Lily,” I stammer. “Makoto Lily, I met her a few months ago at the Library downtonw.”

“And him?” he presses on the folded crease that cut off the part in Akio’s hair.

“Li Akio,” I strain.

“Where are they now?” the sketchpad is finally back in my grasp, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The question is stinging in my ears, and I can feel heat fanning my faces from the inside out.

“Where are they now?” it was a question I always had, and never asked. I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t know. Parroting just seemed like an easy way out. Maybe he’ll leave it alone. Leave me alone.

“Can you draw me?” I slam the book shut, startled by hands on my waist, jumping back quickly. “ . . . Nee, sorry Kai-Chain.” he sounds sheepishly, and I can see his hands behind his back. Left foot fidgeting--

“It’s okay.” he didn’t do anything wrong. “Maybe some other time? I have art club and--”

“Silly Kai-chan, art club is closed today.” he says this through a giggle that’s so light, so comforting, and I shift slightly. “You can stay here, with me and Takashi!”

“Takashi?” I say the name softly, almost like a taste of some forbidden fruit, and those dark eyes from before find me again. “ . . . Who’s that?”

Dark eyes has hair like a crow’s feathers, framing his face and strong jaw. Shoulders firm, with an agile grip on a staff. Feet plantied meticulously, with moments to the rest of the room when he turns away, that reminds me of Navy Blue.

“Him.” Mitsukuni says, and it felt like a teasing short cut of, You’re staring. “You can meet him if you want Kai-Chan,”

“Oh,” I consider it for a moment, and clutch my book a bit tighter. “Uh--”

“Takashi! Over here!” Mistukuni cheers, and my lungs feels as tight as my grip when Takashi makes a curt nod at the people surrounding him, bows, and heads our way. I quickly glance at Mistukuni’s face, anxious to see who can be so melicious.

I’m surprised to find such a cherub like face. Blonde hair with bright hazel eyes, and--

“Mistukuni,” Takashi greets, as if I’m not there.

“This is Fujimoto Kai,” Mistukuni says, as if everyone is suppossed to know. The smallest smile tickles my mouth. “The new art scholar.”

Takashi hums at that, and turns his gaze to me. His eyes are even darker up close, but sparking with interest. His eye brow is quirked a bit, the right corner of his mouth tilted just so.

“W-would you like to uh,” I tap the lower left corner of my book. Once, twice . . . “See my skecthpad?”

His shoulders move a little, like a miniscule sigh of relief, “Yeah.”

He turns pages in such a different manner.

(Slowly. Calculating. Studying. Remembering.)

“You like art Takashi?” He brushes a hand over a drawing of Mom. A messy scribble of her side profile from my anxious wait outside of Chairman Suoh’s office. I know ther’s a couple charcoal finger prints, and I’m suddenly self conscious.

“I can teach you?” I don’t know why I’m talking.

(Why I’m asking.)

(Why I’m offering.)

\-- But he turns some more. Staring at a charcoal blur of Kazumi drinking some of Katsumi tea. Gazing at a oil painted smear of Dad on the phone. Mezmeried by a water color of the last time Mom smiled . . .

“Water color.” I decide, and it sounds more choked up than I imagined. “I can teach you water color. You like it don’t you?”

He looks at me with both eye brows raised this time, and a slight scrunch to his nose. My book is closed so gently, like he’s scared to break it, like he knows how much it means to me, before handing it back.

“Yeah,” his voice is so smooth. “I do.”

He leaves after that, but he still feels so close.

(I don’t know what that means.)

(I don’t know who to tell.)

“You like Takashi.” Mistukuni says, and this time I’m okay with him not letting me answer.

(I don’t have to.)

“Kai-Chain?” his voice wavers, sheepishly yet again, and he’s making this grabby hands at me to sit. My bag doesn’t feel so heavy when I put it down, and I rummage for a number 3 graphite. “You’ll draw me, right?”

I smile a little.

(And do.)

. . . Takashi finds Mistukuni asleep with his head against my shoulder once the others leave. Mistukuni tells me that Takahi’s a Kendo champion, and I’m not sure I paid much attention to the sport. I skecthed the roughest portrait to date, of Mistukuni holding his bunny, Usa-Chan, and redirected my attention to draw Takashi in the most graceful stance I’d ever seen.

“S’it over?” Mistukuni mumbles rubbing sleep from his eye with a fist, and I nod my head jabbing my thumb in Takahi’s direction. He’s got two bags on his shoulder, with a textbook in his hand.

“Yeah.” Takashi says.

I never knew one word could say so much.

Mistunkuni rises, sleepily so, finds a way to clammer on to Takashi’s back, and is back asleep soon after.

It’s unlike me, to ever tear a page from my book, but I do. The drawing of Mistukuni is folded neatly, and I make sure to put it inside of Takashi’s bag before they get too far. He gives me this smile, would’ve missed it if I’d blinked, then hums.

I see them wander off to that Music Room where Haruhi indignantly entered, and for the first time since my 8th birthday, I felt statically alone.

. . . Akiko finds me at the bus stop, and I’m sure she was with some friends moments ago. She’s in the midst of laughter when she stops by my side, red stained on her cheeks, and a piece of raspberry between her teetth.

“Sorry, I’m late.” everyone is. “I was at the club today, and oh boy,” she laughs a little more. “You wouldn’t believe who I saw in there.”

I oprn my mouth to ask who, and can hardly get it out when Haruhi stumbles from around the same corner. She looks absolutely irritated, glasses no where to be seen, and a boy’s uniform hugging her in such a comfortable way that I’m too shocked to be confused.

“Haruhi?”

“Oh, how’d you know?”

“How’d I know what?”

“That Haruhi was in the club Silly,” Akiko says. It sounds so simple, but I can’t piece it together if I tried.

“What?” Haruhi reaches me after some tall blond pats her shoulder, and whispers something in her that I can’t place, then goes off into a limo. “ . . . What club?”

There’s a pair of twins how exit moments later, tangled in one another, and I can feel my fingers digging at my thigh wondering where Kazumi and Katsumi could possibly be.

“Haruhi!” Akiko cheers, “I saved you a couple sweets from the club. Hani didn’t even notice!”

Hani?

A guy with glasses and a book is the next to walk out. He looks our way, his eyes from Haruhi, then me. I could see him nod, swallow, then click a pen before scribbling something in that book.

He must be that Kyoya Ootori guy Akiko told us about.

“Thanks,” Haruhi adjusts her bag a couple times, and squints at the bus stop’s schedule. “Can I have a muffin?”

Akiko nods excitedly, hands it over, and opens her mouth in my direction--

“Kai-Chan!” it’s Mistukuni who says this. Hurrying from around the corner, hugging my legs so tight I almost buckle. “Thank you for drawing me!” the drawing is a little smudged, the lines faint, but you can tell it’s him. “You should draw Usa-Chan next, okay!”

I can hear Akiko makes some disgruntled sound, and Takashi is so close that I could hardly register when we came over. He slids a piece of paper in my palm, I clutch it tight, and he pats my shoulder so soft I could faint.

(He and Mistukuni are so different.)

“Kai.” he says my name firmly, and meets my eye.

(I read it as, same time same place, then nod.)

It seemed to do the trick, because he smiled so obviously, and I can’t stop myself from doing the same.

“You know them?!” Akiko and Haruhi ask this in tune, and it rings.

(Akiko doesn’t sound happy.)

(Haruhi doesn’t either.)

“The bus is here.” I say trying to find a way out, and it works for a moment.

Akiko gets on the bus as soon as the door opens, while Kazumi and Katsumi yell for it to wait.

Their rounding a different corner, uniform’s messily hanging off their body that’s almost indecicent, and Haruhi looks at me with an expression that I could hardly read.

. . . When we’re home, Kazumi decides we have Sushi for dinner, and Kastumi goes off to buy Nori since we’d run out. Haruhi sprawls out her notebooks in the living room, and I cram into the longue chair with a few supplies in the cup holder.

Kazumi doesn’t say anything, just meddles on his phone.

Haruhi spares me a couple glances, but scratches the date into another sheet instead of speaking.

And I wipe some residue from a fresh page, ready to draw.

There’s a navy blue pencil in my hand, and for once, something a little foreign isn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter of Thantophobia. I know I've been gone for so so long, fingers crossed this update makes up for it. Any thoughts on Kai's encounter with Mistukuni and Takashi? Any ideas on what'll happen next? Let me know!I

**Author's Note:**

> K O N ' N I C H I W A !
> 
> I hope you enjoy what i have to offer and feel free to comment your thoughts and opinions; constructive criticizism is more than welcome. 
> 
> Doumo Arigatou, Ciani Jayde. (シニア ヒスイ)


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